


Comin' Up Aces

by SomethingFishy



Series: This Kid's Not Alright [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood: Lost Days, Red Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: All Robins Are Nerds, Bruce Wayne is the World's Okayest Dad, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Jason Todd Has A Dirty Mouth, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2019-06-08 18:35:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15249486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomethingFishy/pseuds/SomethingFishy
Summary: Summer was going pretty good in Gotham, but then the Red Hood decided to show up.





	1. Kick in the Teeth

**Author's Note:**

> I am playing so fast and loose with canon here, I feel a little queasy. 
> 
> Since this is being published with minimal editing, content is subject to change as I go back and comb through it and question my writing skills.
> 
> *First chapter has now been edited.

There was usually always something going on in Gotham. The dark city was always crawling with something, be it rats or the Joker’s goons. Now, though, the city was on a knife’s edge. Nothing really bad had happened in months. The crime rate was at a yearly low. To an outsider, someone who hadn’t lived their entire life Gotham, it would seem like things were looking up. To a born and raised Gothamite? They knew that something awful was going to happen, and the longer the calm went on, the bigger the storm. 

 

In the meantime, the calm made for very boring patrols, not that Robin minded very much. A boring night meant a safe night. Safe nights meant that Robin could listen to music, then get off patrol early and actually get a full night’s sleep for once. 

 

He sat on the ledge of a roof in the middle of his patrol route, half listening for the sirens that usually were always wailing in this part of town, but all he could hear was traffic. Every once and awhile, a shout would pierce the air, but it would quickly become obvious that the shouts were just ones of laughter. He lazily scrolled through his twitter timeline, his friends going back and forth about some piece of gossip he had missed. 

 

A hand touched his shoulder, and Robin about jumped out of his skin. He dropped his phone,  whirled around, and jumping to his feet. His fists were raised just to realize it was only Nightwing, who was laughing at him.

 

“What was that for?” Robin demanded, punching Nightwing hard in the shoulder.

 

“Ow!” Nightwing whined through his laughter, rubbing his shoulder, “here I come, all this way to give you something to do and you abuse me? Unfair. I’m telling Alfred.”

 

Robin grinned, unable to help himself, as he rolled his eyes, “oh, stop whining, you big baby. Everyone knows that Alfred would agree with me. You scared the hell out of me.”

 

“Sorry baby bro, I thought you heard me coming.” Nightwing did actually look apologetic, but quickly perked up. “Hey I brought a snack along with a file though, so let’s sit, eat and go over this info.” He snagged Robin’s spot on the ledge of the roof, stretching his legs out and grinning sunnily as Robin had to flop back on to the graveled roof to sit. 

 

“What’s this case?” Robin asked, holding out both his hands for the file and whatever food Dick was willing to share with him today. 

 

“There’s a new drug lord in town!” Nightwing said with flair, as he magically produced a ziplock bag of Oreos from a pocket, and a notebook full of Batman’s scribbled notes. He then handed them to Tim. “No one knows who it is, and neither Batman or I have heard any whispers about what the street is calling him.” 

 

“Nothing?” Robin asked as he took the notebook, and flipped through the pages, resting it on his knee. He pulled the bag open and snagged a cookie before skimming through the notes.

 

“Nothing.” Nightwing shrugged. “Not even a crumb. But this guy? He means business. He’s taken out three of the-”

 

“Biggest drug dealers in Old Gotham and Crime Alley. Holy shit, N. This guy shot Duggy Dumb.” Robin looked up to Nightwing, wide-eyed with an Oreo stuck between his teeth. “I’ve been trying to get Duggy Dumb behind bars for  _ months _ now and he just goes and shoots the guy.” 

 

“That’s not it. He’s taken out the Blue Room too. Lit the place on fire let it burn straight to the ground.” Nightwing stole an Oreo out of the bag and bit into it, shaking his head slowly. “I’m not sure if I want to shake this guy’s hand for that, or what. I mean, that place was so awful for those poor girls, but the club was their home, you know? At least, it was for a lot of them.”

 

Robin hummed in agreement, starting to get into the puzzle Batman had outlined in the little notebook for him. He skimmed over the words, phrases like ‘dangerously unstable behavior’, ‘highly organized, no disorder to crimes’ and ‘possible repeat offender, but likely vigilante debut’. “Hey N, Batman wrote that this is his “likely vigilante debut”. What makes him think that, other than the fact that no one has seen him so far?”

 

“Oh no, people have seen him,” Nightwing said, as he shoved the rest of his cookie into his mouth. “They usually wind up dead though, or it’s just a glimpse. From the very sparse description I got, he’s young.”

 

Robin frowned, tapping his second cookie against the page, “That doesn’t mean much. A person in their fifties could look young at a distance, especially if they’re climbing a building.”

 

A smile was pulling at the edge of Nightwing’s lips. He was trying not to let it show and failing, “you have a point.”

 

“It says here that he’s ‘taken over drug trade in Crime Alley and Old Gotham, with major narcotic distributors either killed or bribed into compliance. Street gossip indicates a growing loyalty towards the unsub with the common criminal, because of special protection for prostitutes, and a vicious hatred of criminals who target children. All known facts of unsub suggest prior military training, possibly covert ops.’ What if he was a vigilante in another city, and moved here? This sounds more like someone who’s correcting the mistakes they’ve made in the past, and trying again, someplace new.”

 

“That’s a pretty solid theory..”

 

“Why, thank you. I was hired for a reason.” 

 

Nightwing laughed, grinning brightly. “But seriously, you’re already onto something. You have a working theory that makes sense, and I know for a fact that you’ll continue to dig and find more pieces for this puzzle. And B decided that this case would be yours to run and I’d be backup.” Nightwing grinned at Robin when the teen’s head snapped up, surprised. “Yup, all yours, kiddo.”

 

“Seriously?” Robin asked again, still a little shocked.

 

“Old Gotham is your part of town, Rob, of course the case is yours. Your territory, your business.” Nightwing shrugged, still grinning. 

 

“But I’m only sixteen, and you didn’t run a case on your own ‘til you were nineteen.” Robin shut the notebook and squeezed it, the leather of his gloves creaking against the smooth cover. 

 

“And? You’re sixteen and smarter than me, so there you go.” Nightwing held up a hand as Robin started to protest. “The purpose of this case is not “put this new crime lord behind bars” it’s “find out who this crime lord is.” You’re a whiz at gathering information, so are you seriously trying to convince me that you’re not ready to take this case on yourself? ” He asked as he raised an eyebrow, his domino mask flexing with the movement.

 

“Well, no...” Robin didn’t sound very convincing, even to himself. He’d never run a case by himself, especially one with a known killer. Batman had even laid down a rule of him never going up a known killer on his own when he had first taken up the mantle of Robin in the first place. He mentioned that to Nightwing, who rolled his eyes, exaggerating since he was wearing a mask with lenses. 

 

“And on another note, I’m back up. While I won’t be next to you one hundred percent of the time, I’ll never be more than five minutes away from you.” Nightwing pitched his voice low, quiet and soft, “Tim, trust me. You’ll be fine.”

 

Robin smiled, just a quirk of his lips, “if you say so, then I guess I will be.” He stood, pocketing the notebook. “I better go make some noise and knock some heads around Old Gotham if I’m going to get anywhere. Pick up the last half of my normal patrol for me? I’ll swing by Crime Alley and start investigating there, too.”

 

“Sure,” Nightwing drawled, grinning, unfurling like a cat to get to his feet and stretch. “Let me know when you head into the Alley, and I’ll make sure I’m close by.” Nightwing stepped off the edge of the roof, taking a moment to freefall before firing a line at a nearby building. Robin watched him swing away towards Old Gotham, flipping and tumbling through the air. 

 

Taking a deep breath, and a moment to plan how he was going to begin, Robin looked over the Gotham skyline. It looked like his night wasn’t going to be so boring after all.

 

-0-0-0-0-

 

Robin first realized he was being followed about ten minutes ago, but since the person tailing him didn’t  _ do _ anything, at first he didn’t think much of it. Nightwing or Batman would sometimes follow him during a patrol, just to make sure he was safe. They’d tail him for a block or two before going back to their own circuits.  It was something he was used to, but this wasn’t Batman or Nightwing. 

 

For one, they hid themself from him. When Robin had landed on a flat roof, and turned around to face his stalker, Nightwing didn’t come bouncing towards him, nor did Batman pull himself out of the shadows. He was left standing out in the open moonlight, distinctly feeling like he was being watched. Suspicion itched under his skin, unsure whether he was being followed by an enemy or an ally. 

 

The next thing was that they didn’t _move_ like any other bat. He- they had to be a he- landed heavily, just barely audible when Robin was standing still and listening hard enough, temporarily hidden from his stalker’s view. It reminded Robin of Batman, with Bruce’s two hundred and ten pounds of pure muscle, but this guy was lighter and sometimes moved as if he were Nightwing, effortlessly twisting around the obstacles Robin maneuvered through. He had a distinct style of his own, which definitely put Robin on high alert. With the brief flickers of shadow that Robin could catch out of the corner of his eye, he knew the style was familiar, but for the life of him, couldn’t remember where he had seen it before.

 

“I’m being tailed,” Robin said into his comms, softly, trying not to be heard as he ran across a roof. He threw himself off the edge and shot a grapple hook line to anchor himself to a billboard. Swinging out into open air, he twisted, trying to catch a good look at who was following him, but he was out of momentum too soon to see anything. 

 

“I can get to you, ETA five minutes,” Nightwing said in his ear, already on the move, judging from the background noise. “Don’t go facing this person alone. If they can keep up with you, they mean business.”

 

“I know,” Robin said, tucking and rolling across another rooftop. 

 

Nightwing signed off of the com line as Robin was coming up on a stretch of buildings that was particularly hard to navigate. Robin had been patrolling this area of Gotham for the past three years, and he still had some difficulty flying over these roofs. If he couldn’t lose his tail here in snarled alleys and fire escapes of the repurposed tenements of Old Gotham, he would really be in deep shit.

 

Robin launched himself into the narrow alley between the first buildings, temporarily retiring his grapple gun to his belt. Using the balls of his feet, he bounced from wall to wall, the space between them so slim that he had to tuck his elbows into his body to avoid slamming them into brick. Coming out on the other side, he flung himself out, catching the ledge of a roof with his fingers. 

 

Hauling himself up and over, he immediately broke into a sprint, leaping from one roof to the other. Looking over his shoulder, he searched for his stalker, a little relieved when he didn’t see anyone. Preparing for his next roof-jump, he was caught off guard as a man dropped down from the roof of an adjacent building, landing right in his path.

 

Stumbling back, Robin put some distance between him and the man, then didn’t move, on guard. He waited, wanting to make the other make the first move. He put his hands up, slipping into a defensive stance.

 

Nothing happened. The man who had been following Robin just tipped his head to the side, watching him closely. Curious, Robin took a step back, and the man stepped forward. They continued to move around each other, going in circles. No matter what move Robin made, the other matched it. It was like a game, and Robin got to take a good look at how this guy moved, and what he looked like. 

 

He couldn’t have been much older than Robin was, maybe eighteen or nineteen, considering his height and build. His shoulders were wider, and was three to five inches taller. He was a little bulkier than Robin was, thicker muscle in his arms and legs, less of an acrobat and more like a marine. He was strapped down with equipment too, from the AK-47 slung over his shoulder to the knife holster clipped to his boot. His was carrying an extra twenty to thirty pounds more than what Robin was, and the way he moved so easily with it set Robin’s teeth on edge. 

 

He wore a bright red helmet, face covered, featureless. It was actually unnerving. His uniform was black, with accents of red so dark they might as well be black too. There was no symbol on his chest, which made Robin feel silly for having expected one. The man- who Robin already nicknamed Red in his head- flexed his fingers, hands curling and uncurling into fists, leather creaking.

 

Robin and Red circled each other, the blankness of the helmet fixed on him. Robin was about to back away and try to escape when Red snapped his leg out, a sidekick expertly aimed for his head. 

 

Robin ducked, throwing himself down to roll to the side, into a crouch, his hand going to his hip to grab his bo-staff. Extending the weapon, he popped back up, swinging the staff over his head to bring it down on his opponent. Red stepped to the side, grabbed the staff and jerked it towards him, trying to drag Robin close. Robin let it slip through his fingers, before tightening his grip to pull it back. Red saw it coming, and allowed himself to be pulled into Robin, a right hook catching him in the jaw, knocking him back.

 

Ears ringing, Robin thrust his knee up into Red’s stomach, hard enough to send him stumbling backwards. He tossed down his staff, wrenching it out of Red’s hand, and followed the motion, twisting, using the momentum to add some power to the right-legged roundhouse he aimed for Red’s side. Red curled, elbow nearly touching his hip as he blocked the kick, his other hand coming up to try and smack into Robin’s knee, but Robin was quicker. 

 

Robin twisted, landing on the ball of his foot to continue around, left heel smacking into Red’s helmet. A resounding clang of Robin’s reinforced boot sole on the metal helmet rang through the air. Red stumbled, losing his balance as he was forced to the side.

 

Robin lightly stepped back, hands up in a defensive position, protecting his face and chest. Red took a moment to collect himself, hand coming up to touch his helmet, brushing over the red metal and looking for a dent. 

 

“Not bad,” he said, voice slightly distorted. Robin didn’t know why he expected Red’s voice to be clear, since he was wearing a helmet, but the vocal scrambler surprised him. “Let's see just how good you actually are, pretty boy,” Red said, sounding amused.

 

Robin rolled his eyes, and almost missed seeing the jab that Red threw, aiming for his jaw. Robin stepped to the side, countering with a left hook. His hit landed, making Red grunt. Then the other teen dropped his center of gravity, crouching slightly, and lunged for Robin. Unable to evade, Robin brought his knee up into Red’s side as his arms wrapped around his middle.

 

Red Hood shoved him off his feet and slammed him to the gravelled rooftop. Robin brought his legs up just in time to stop Red from straddling him, and wrapped them around his waist, curling into a defensive position, even though he was effectively trapped until he could squirm his way out somehow.

 

Red didn’t aim for his face, like Robin was expecting, instead going for his abdomen. Red slammed his fists into Robin’s ribs, and Robin could feel himself bruising, even under the armor of his chest-piece. Three hits in, and Robin’s rib cracked, making him gasp in pain. Red  flinched, fist still raised for a punch, but he momentarily paused. It gave Robin enough time to bring his foot up and shove it against the front of Red’s helmet. Pushing off hard, Robin sent Red backwards, making him land on his ass. Robin did a backwards somersault, bouncing up to his feet, gasping. Still sprawled on the ground, Red laughed, delighted.

 

“Good!” He said, jumping back up to his feet, and snapping out his leg and slamming the heel of his boot into Robin’s cracked rib. “But not good enough, come on, you can do better than this! You better be able to do better than this!”

 

Robin choked, feeling his rib give along with the audible crack of breaking bone. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed Red’s leg with one hand and used the palm of his other to smack into Red’s knee, trying to pop it out of place. Red let out a grunt of pain, but was able to wrench his leg away. He took two or three steps back, assessing the situation. 

 

Robin turned to run, not wanting to fight, especially since he hadn’t been prepared for it in the first place. He got about five steps away when his cape was grabbed, and he was dragged backwards. Catching his breath, he tipped his head down, anticipating the arm around his throat before it came. 

 

Red wrapped him in a tight hold, one hand on the back of his head. His elbow was at Robin’s chin, trying to force his way under so he could get to Robin’s throat. Robin bit down on his arm hard, teeth digging into leather and armor as he brought his heel up to try and kick Red in the groin. Red jumped back, grip loosening just enough for Robin to slip free. He grabbed Red’s arm and twisted, while yanking down, using his shoulder to bend Red’s elbow the wrong way. 

 

With another grunt of pain, Red swung his leg out and up, his knee driving into Robin’s solar plexus. Robin couldn’t help but gasp, his rib suddenly screaming with pain. He doubled over, and got an elbow to the back of his skull for his trouble. Robin hit the ground, barely catching himself in time to not slam his nose into the roof. He looked up in time to see Red swing his leg back, winding up to kick him in the head. Robin rolled, world spinning, dodging just in time. He snatched his staff up from where it was laying on the roof, and swung, catching Red in the knee that he hit earlier. 

 

“Fuck!” Red grunted, knee buckling, landing on it hard. He growled, and Robin could practically feel the anger rolling off him in waves. He tested his balance, taking the few seconds that Robin was catching his breath to get to his feet. 

 

Robin climbed to his feet as well, woozy, his head and side throbbing. He needed to get away, but if he didn’t take this guy down first, he’d just keep coming after him. He just needed to hold on until Nightwing got there. He could hold this guy off. He was pretty sure. Actually, he wasn’t sure at all but the intent was there. 

 

Robin snapped his leg out, catching Red in the ribs with a heavy roundhouse kick. It was like he barely felt it, ignoring the kick to step forward again to throw an impressive jab. Robin brought his arm up just in time to block, the blow bouncing off his gauntlet. They went back and forth, trading hits. Robin still had his staff, but Red was so close it was almost useless. Stepping back, Robin swung it up and around aiming a powerful hit to Red’s head. 

 

Red let out a yell and rushed him, instead. Robin brought his staff down to block, but Red just grabbed it, using it to shove Robin back down to the ground. He landed hard on his back, the wind getting knocked out of him as Red let go of the staff with one hand, winding up to punch him again. He fought to keep the staff in his hands while bringing both arms up to cover his chest and head. 

 

Frustrated, Red ignored the staff, and started laying into Robin’s abdomen. Robin felt another rib crack, the pain ratcheting up to knock his breath away. He twisted, using all his strength to pull the staff up just enough to block the punch aimed for his head. Using his left knee, he slammed it into Red’s side. Then he snapped his head forward, head butting Red in the face. It wasn’t his brightest idea, since he just succeeded in slamming his forehead against a metal helmet, but Red jerked back, probably on instinct. 

 

Stars exploded behind behind his eyes, and he flopped back to the roof. His nose and forehead were throbbing, and he had to blink a few times, to clear his vision. When he focused, the barrel of a gun was hovering right in front of his face.

 

Robin went still, dropping his staff. 

 

“I could kill you right now,” Red said, his voice low and full of anger.

 

“Yeah,” Robin said, breathlessly, panicking. “You could.”

 

Red didn’t say anything, his helmet completely unreadable. He pulled his arm back, and Robin worried he was going to get shot for a split second, before Red’s arm came back down and smacked him hard in the temple. The world went black, his vision fading, and Robin was glad that dying didn’t hurt that much.


	2. Chapter Two

An obnoxious and bright ringtone started blaring from Batman’s belt in the middle of the weekly League meeting, bringing the entire gathering to a halt. Every head turned to look at Batman, as his mouth curled into a frown under his cowl. Clark was instantly curious, since he had never seen Batman have something so human happen to him like have a cell phone go off at an inopportune time. 

 

Batman pulled the phone out and took a peek at it before sighing heavily. “I have to take this,” he said simply, standing. He quickly exited the meeting and suddenly, all eyes were on Clark. 

 

“What was that all about?” Barry asked, crossing his arms and leaning heavily against the table.

 

“You can check,” Diana said, more of an order than a statement.

 

Clark sighed, “yes, I can check.” He closed his eyes, and leaned back in his chair, listening hard and feeling incredibly rude. If only his mother could see him now. He zeroed in on Batman’s heartbeat, and was alarmed to realize it was elevated. 

 

“-m’s in the hospital. Had to take him in as Nightwing,” a tiny voice was coming over a small cell phone speaker. “I took him to G General, and I’m heading back to my apartment to change.”

 

“Why not the cave?” Batman’s voice was different. He must have pulled off the cowl. 

 

“He was unconscious, the guy he was fighting pistol whipped him in the temple, and he wouldn’t wake when I tried to rouse him,” Nightwing said, breathing hard. “Get back to Gotham, the hospital will be calling you soon. Wanted to give you a heads up.”

 

“I’m on my way,” Batman said, his heartbeat thundering loudly and nearly drowning out his speech. “Was he breathing when you-”

 

“Yes,” Nightwing interrupted, “just unconscious, I promise.”

 

“Alright,” Batman sighed heavily, “I’ll call you in exactly a half hour.”

 

“Good, see you,” and the call ended.

 

Clark opened his eyes, frowning. 

 

“So?” Ollie asked. 

 

“Something happened in Gotham, something serious,” Clark reported. “Someone called Nightwing was reporting in, saying someone was in the hospital.” He snapped his mouth shut and shook his head at Diana who was going to ask a question, as the door handle turned and Batman walked back into the room.

 

“I have to leave,” he said, grabbing the file he had left on the table. “Don’t call me for anything. I’ll be busy.” Then, with a whirl of his cape, he was gone again, leaving everyone staring at each other.

  
  


-0-0-0-0-

 

Tim drifted back into consciousness slowly. There was a hand resting on the top of his head, fingers combing through his bangs. He was warm, and comfortable and didn’t want to open his eyes. He sighed, shifting to turn onto his side. A dull throb of pain started to build somewhere in his ribs, but he ignored it easily. Another hand stopped him from getting more comfortable on his side, pulling him onto his back again and he frowned. 

 

“Tim?” Bruce said, the hand in his hair stopped it's comforting movement.

 

“Hmm?” Tim mumbled, still refusing to open his eyes.

 

“How do you feel?” Bruce asked, sounding concerned.

 

Concerned. That wasn’t good. It probably had something to do with the pain Tim was feeling, so he frowned before answering. “‘M okay.” 

 

“No, kiddo,” Bruce started moving again, just his thumb, rubbing over his forehead. “You’re hurt.” 

 

“Yeah,” Tim agreed. His entire body felt like his muscles had been replaced with honey, or jello. Something gooey and soft that made it hard for him want to move. It felt a lot like morphine actually.

 

“You can come home, soon.” Bruce said, “but they have to see you awake first.”

 

“They?” Tim asked, cracking his eyes open. 

 

Bruce was leaning over him, and he smiled as Tim made eye contact. “You’re in the Gotham General ER. The hero Nightwing brought you in after you got mugged on your run. Remember any of that?”

 

“A little,” Tim nodded slowly. 

 

“What do you remember?” A new voice asked, and Tim jumped. There was a nurse in light green scrubs standing on the other side of his bed, smiling gently at him. She was the one who had stopped him from rolling over, her hand still resting on his chest. 

 

“I remember I had my headphones,” he said, continuing Bruce’s lie easily. “I stopped to take my shirt off. It was sticking to my back.” 

 

The nurse nodded, and her hand pressed into his side, kneading gently, examining him. “You’re lucky, kid, whoever mugged you had a gun.” 

 

“Is that why my head hurts?” Tim asked, frowning, feigning confusion. He glanced at Bruce, who had gotten up and was talking to someone in the doorway now. 

 

The nurse laughed shortly, a real smile on her face now, instead of the soft placating one she had a second ago. “Yeah they hit you with it. You’re gonna have one hell of a shiner in a day or two. Anything else hurt?” She prodded his side again, her fingers pressing into his ribs, slipping under the bandage he hadn’t realized was there. 

 

“Just my ribs,” Tim shifted, straightening up. “But not on that side, that doesn’t hurt.” 

 

“Good.” She stepped away from his bed and over to a monitor, that she shut off with a few quick button presses. She shot Tim a slightly suspicious look. “Mr. Wayne was very worried when he arrived but was  _ very  _ insistent on taking you home.” 

 

“Yeah, he’s like that.” Tim shrugged, and didn’t grimace when his side protested faintly. “I think it’s because he just doesn’t want to let me out of his sight for the next week and a half.” 

 

The nurse huffed, before facing him and put her hands sternly on her hips. “That is perfectly fine with me. The story everyone’s giving me was a mugging, but that’s a bold faced lie. You got in a fight, mister.  _ If _ there’s a next time, which I certainly hope there isn’t, you might be coming in as  _ dead _ , and not unconscious.”

 

Tim let himself flush, and nodded. This was nowhere near the reprimand that he was going to get from Bruce anyway, and was almost refreshingly amusing. 

 

“I’m not going to tell Mr. Wayne, that’s up to you.  _ But _ you’re not gonna be gracing my ER with his presence again, are you?” This nurse made Tim think of Babs, her stern look echoing the one she always wore when chewing him out.

 

“No ma’am,” Tim said, sitting up slowly. “I promise. It won’t happen again.”

 

She nodded, before launching into some care instructions, now that he was going home. It wasn’t anything that he hadn’t heard before, from Alfred and Bruce himself. Tim glanced away, peering at Bruce again. He was talking to a doctor, who was looking a little star struck. The nurse waved a hand in his face, frowning before starting over. 

 

The next half hour was filled with hustle and bustle as a crew of people discharged Tim from the ER. He was wheeled out to where Alfred and Dick were waiting in a town car, a massive pile of paperwork in his lap. 

 

Dick saw him first, his face lighting up with a relieved smile. He was at Tim’s side in an instant, taking the paperwork and tucking it under his arm. “How you feeling?” He asked, his hands coming up to cradle Tim’s face. He twisted his head this way and that, examining the bandage stuck to his temple.

 

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” Tim sighed, swatting at Dick’s hands, “Just fine.” 

 

Dick dropped his voice, “We were lucky I showed up when I did.” He helped Tim stand then, and get into the car, going so far as to buckle him in. He slid in right next to him, leaning close as he continued. “The guy with the gun, the way he held himself... he was angry.”

 

Tim kept his voice low, watching as Alfred and Bruce got into the front of the town car. “I’m honestly not sure why he didn’t shoot me. He could have.”

 

“I’m glad he didn’t,” Bruce said, twisting in his seat to face Tim as Alfred pulled away from the curb. There was a tightness in the lines around his mouth, a crease between his brows. “I’m taking you off the case and we’ll shelve it.”

 

“What?” Tim surged forward, the seatbelt across his chest catching and trapping him. “But I just started!”

 

“You got the shit beaten out of you by some random dude,” Dick pointed out. Tim shot him a glare, and he raised his hands, shutting his mouth. 

 

“I did not, he got a lucky hit is all!” Tim turned back to Bruce. “I didn’t even get a chance to go down to Crime Alley, I was on my way there when that guy dropped out of nowhere. For all we know, he could be working for this new crime boss, and went after the first target he saw.”

 

“That doesn’t change the fact that he was able to follow you,” Bruce said, mouth tightening some more.

 

“I noticed him immediately.” Tim countered, crossing his arms. 

 

“Which is why Dick got there so quickly, yes. But you  _ did _ just end up in the hospital. I’m not taking any chances, the case is closed,” Bruce said, turning away to face forward.

 

“But-!”

 

“But nothing!” Bruce exploded, whipping back around, eyes bright. “You’re injured. You’re going to take it easy and heal. You’re off the case, it’s done and that is  _ final. _ I cannot keep you on this mission if it means that  _ that-“  _ Bruce pointed to the paperwork in Dick’s hands, “happens again.”

 

Tim snapped his mouth shut, ducking his head. His face burned as he gripped his knees, keeping his gaze there. He wanted to continue arguing but he knew it would get him nowhere. He could feel Bruce’s eyes on him for a moment longer, before they slipped away, facing forward again. 

 

“I don’t want to give up on it,” Tim said, still looking at his hands. “This is important,” he wanted to add  _ to me, _ but didn’t. “I want to keep this case open. Let Dick take over, I’ll provide cover.” 

 

Bruce was silent for a moment, but he nodded when Tim looked up. “I’ll think about it.”

 

Tim breathed out slowly, letting some tension out of his shoulders. He slumped back against the seat and turned to look out the window. That was all he was going to get. 


End file.
